Chapter 2
Tanner
I swear to god, if one more freshman whispers when I walk by, I’m gonna sock them in the face.
A trio of them stopped stretching the second I stepped onto the baseball practice field, their panicked faces giving them away.
I didn’t need to ask what they were talking about.
Everyone knew. It was difficult not to when my life—all our lives—were plastered on social media.
There were no secrets about MLB-bound athletes, and that entailed the good and the bad.
The latest and greatest obsession trending around our campus—I’d declined an offer after being picked in the tenth round in the MLB draft.
Yeah, fucking crazy. But I had my reasons and while I felt it was no one’s business but my own, the world craved answers I wouldn’t give.
Coach understood and encouraged me to make my decision for me and my family, and that was what I’d done.
If I was okay with it, then why couldn’t anyone else be?
Life of the rich and famous, my ass.
“Yo, TJ. Let’s go to the cages,” Carter Bolt hollered at me.
Yeah, he had a hell of a name for a ball player.
The sophomore stood a couple inches shorter than me and had a killer arm for right field.
It was his hitting that needed work and our hitting coach thought it would be good for us to pair up.
Call it a stroke of ego, but I’d hit pretty damn good the year before—over three hundred—but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my goals.
Tenth round isn’t enough. The signing bonus isn’t enough. Not for what my family needs.
I shook off the tension as best I could, but it lingered.
It remained in my shoulders and neck, straining when I threw.
It always persisted until my mom called me with an update that she was okay.
She’d called the night before, letting me know my younger brothers were doing fine and that she’d call again in three days.
It was easy to busy myself with baseball, parties and women until the worry stopped, but it was getting old and the answer to all my problems was so close.
I needed to play better, get picked sooner in the draft and get a better signing bonus. That’s all. No big deal.
Carter gave me a look when I didn’t respond, and I jogged toward him. He adjusted his cap, sending his shaggy red hair all over the place, and picked up a bucket of balls. “Party too much last night, eh?”
“Nah, just thinking about how to fuck with the new guys.” I jutted my head toward the gossiping group stretching, their wide eyes still focused on me. “Know anything about them?”
“Peter is from an upscale prep school, but I don’t know about the other two. Let ’em gossip. They won’t get much playing time, so they need something to occupy themselves with,” he replied, letting out a loud whistle at his own quip. It took a lot of effort not to roll my eyes.
“Nice one.”
“I try. Oh, hey! Hilly!” Carter shouted and we both looked at my roommate and friend.
I waved at him, but he flipped us off before sprinting onto the field for some defensive practice.
When balls got through the infield, it meant I had more action, but lately, too many had been getting hit right up the middle where neither Aaron nor Blake, our second basemen, could stop them.
Coach didn’t like that and they were working on angles to prevent hits from getting through.
Aaron Hill had a new wave of determination this year—a lot of it because of his dad’s condition, fighting cancer.
But another part I would have put money on was his girlfriend, our once best friend, Greta.
Like Zade and his girl, Callie, the guys seemed to play with more ferocity when they had a consistent woman in their lives.
I didn’t get it. I really fucking didn’t, and while the thought of having something with Greta had come and gone, the concept of committing to one person was just not sitting right with me.
It often led to disappointment and my plate was full.
I didn’t have time for disappointment. Hell, my mom had had a revolving door of men who’d left her—and us—and no good had come from it. Shit. Get outta your head, idiot.
“I swear he gets bigger every time I see him,” Carter said as he continued to watch Aaron with a star-struck expression. I smacked the back of his head, getting a loud cussword as an answer. “What the hell was that for?”
“Stop fangirling over him and worry about your own game.”
“I’m not fangirling,” he pouted, but we both knew he was.
Hilly had a weird celebrity personality about him and with all the drama of his life the year before, people knew his entire story.
I was just glad he was back on track and had stopped his self-destructive behavior.
No one likes to see their friend in a downward spiral and he’d slowly brought himself up from the hole.
Pride filled my chest when I studied him for a couple of seconds.
He’d grown into the leader our team needed. I admired the guy.
“Come on, Bolt. Let’s get some swings in and maybe we’ll invite you to the next party at the house. We’re due for a beer pong tournament soon.”
“Really?” he replied, his voice holding way too much hope.
“I said maybe. You gotta hit well, though.”
The last thing I wanted to do was start a bullshit summer class that fulfilled my Humanities and the Arts requirement, but that was what I had to do to get my degree.
My mom’s ‘you’re an injury away from being where I’m at.
Get the degree, have a back-up plan, escape the life we had’ echoed in my head.
Being responsible sucked sometimes when it was easier to just mess around.
I walked into the house and went straight to the fridge to see if there was any chicken casserole left from the Hills, but backtracked when I found Kenzie sitting cross-legged on the couch with large black-rimmed glasses on her face.
She had her hair piled on top of her head and wore a bright purple tank top paired with cut-off denim shorts.
I couldn’t stop my smile. She was cute and so opposite of the athlete house we lived in. “Hey, nerd.”
She glanced up, pursing her pink lips, and made a face at me. “You.”
“Why the attitude?”
“Someone ate the rest of the breakfast casserole my parents left for me and Aaron. That breakfast has been the reason I’ve gotten up all week. Literally, the only reason.” She put her laptop down on the cushion next to her and pointed her little finger at me. “You are that someone.”
“Yeah, I got the insinuation.” Shrugging, I gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Definitely thought they were a free commodity for all.”
“They were, but that one was my favorite, though.”
“Will you attack me if I warm up the chicken one? I’m fucking starving from practice.” I patted my belly and gave her my best puppy-dog look. She didn’t take the bait.
“Just warm up a plate for me. I didn’t realize it was dinner.”
Fair enough. I continued on my path for food and got some for her.
She’d surprised me since she moved in six days ago.
She wasn’t loud, messy, annoying or in the way.
If anything, it was nice having someone else in the house as much as I was.
Zade was with Callie when we didn’t have games, and Aaron and Greta were attached at the hip.
Jeff had been the last wingman in the house before he’d traveled abroad for the summer, leaving the position open.
Kenzie smelled better than Jeff, didn’t laugh like an idiot and didn’t ask me questions I didn’t want to answer.
Yeah, I liked having her there. I rarely pictured what Hilly’s sister was like, but she surpassed every expectation.
“Here you go, Kenny.” I set the plate next to her and laughed when her glasses fell down her nose. She had a tiny freckled nose that arched up just a bit at the end, so the glasses just slid right off. “You look like a dork.”
“Perfect. That was what I was going for. Nailed it!” She made a fist in the air and cheered, the entire thing amusing me. Then she asked the question I dreaded. It was simple and meant no harm, but my reaction was immediate. “How was practice?”
I tensed because the next questions were usually about the draft, and people didn’t understand my decision. ‘Why would you say no? How could you say no? Do you really think you’ll get a better offer next year? What if you get hurt and lose it all?’
I replied with the most conversation ending word I could think of. “Fine.”
She pushed the glasses up with her pointer finger and gave me a long look before nodding to herself. “Noted. Doesn’t like to talk about practice. I’ll file that away with ‘likes to leave towels on the bathroom floor and plays weird music in the morning’.”
It was her expression that broke the hold on my secrets.
She didn’t look at me with accusing eyes or pity.
She looked at me like she genuinely cared about how I practiced.
It was…nice. Not unlike when Zade, Aaron or Jeff asked me.
We were all up in each other’s business and up until now, I was okay with it.
They wanted more than silence and I wasn’t ready to give it to them.
“It’s not—I just… Practice was great. I hit in the cages pretty damn good. ”
“Yeah? Thinking of beating your average from last year? Honestly, I think it’d be better to move you to hit second rather than fifth in the order. I know you got muscles and can hit homers, but getting you more at-bats would do well for your average and get you more opportunities.”
What. The. Fuck. “Uh, I have so many questions now.”
“Why?” She snorted and took a mouthful of the casserole.
The action reminded me of the food in my lap—I never forgot about food—and I used the extra time to take a large bite.
How did I respond to the fact she watched games and knew about my stats?
It was so unexpected of her and I liked the surprise.